


Sabbath

by Deepdarkwaters



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepdarkwaters/pseuds/Deepdarkwaters
Summary: For the first time in years she felt she could breathe to the fullness of her lungs, and not have to stop halfway because of a tickle of soot. There was the scent of flowers and seawater in the air instead of street muck and dirty soap suds. No tumbledown smudged little rows of houses to hide the distant glory of the morning."The way I see it," Fledge said slowly, "this whole world's a church. I shouldn't thinkhewould mind you missing it. You're already there."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/gifts).



The dew in the morning sparkled on the grass like tiny earthbound stars. Nellie couldn't quite recall what a _confectionery_ was, but the word lingered like a strange, lovely dream inside her head. It would come back to her later in that curious place in between asleep and awake - with Frank's mumbling mouth pressed against her hair and her hand pressed against his heart, she would fleetingly remember the frosted prettiness of shop windows full of bonbons and dainty little cakes, and rich ladies with purses of money to exchange for them - but that morning she let the tantalising half-memory go and simply watched the break of dawn. Breathless, reverent, she found her palms impulsively pressing together as the sky faded into pink and soft little clouds chased one another along the horizon. It was an action as natural as covering her face when she sneezed, and yet again the reasons for it danced just beyond her reach.

She could feel the warmth of Strawberry's body against her back and reached for his wing where it was draped like a shawl over her shoulders against the chill of the morning. _Fledge_ , she remembered, stroking tenderly along the soft chestnut feathers; a nobler name, though not as sweet.

"How long have we been here?" she asked.

"Forever," he replied, sounding lazy in his sleepiness, and somehow as though he were smiling. "This is our third sunrise."

"Then we should be at church today."

The memory came suddenly, startling her into sitting up straight from her languorous sprawl against Fledge's side: of clanging bells overhead, a best dress and hat, the sincerity of song and the press of palms there in the pews under light of every colour that streaked in through the stained glass.

Beneath Fledge's other wing, Frank made a wordless little sound and looked as though he might wake. He frowned for a moment, tucked himself closer to the warmth of Fledge's body, then his face smoothed out again and became peaceful, lovely. He looked younger here than in the other place; happier too. So did Fledge. So, Nellie suspected, did she. For the first time in years she felt she could breathe to the fullness of her lungs, and not have to stop halfway because of a tickle of soot. There was the scent of flowers and seawater in the air instead of street muck and dirty soap suds. No tumbledown smudged little rows of houses to hide the distant glory of the morning.

"The way I see it," Fledge said slowly, "this whole world's a church. I shouldn't think _he_ would mind you missing it. You're already there."

"Already where?" Frank mumbled. When Nellie peeped at him again he still had his eyes closed. The hand he was clutching and stroking Fledge's feathers with still had mud grimed into the creases, little raw patches of blisters and scuffs all around the fingertips and knuckles from helping the dwarfs and wood folk and centaurs cut down some of the spiritless trees to begin building their house and a plough. It didn't look very much like a king's hand, but that only made it all the more precious - it was the hand of a man who knew the land and loved the land, and what better ruler could there be than that?

Quietly, Nellie slipped out from beneath Fledge's wing and crept around to his other side, to her husband. Still half-asleep, he wasn't so deep in slumber that he didn't recognise the feel of her, or her scent, or the gentle touch of fingers stroking down his weather-roughened cheek. She could feel him start to smile, then a clumsy little kiss against her hand, and he drew her closer to him so that Fledge could cover them both.

"Miss this horribly when we get blankets and a house and things," Frank murmured into Nellie's hair, and she laughed.

"Miss sleeping on the ground?"

"Castle for my queen. Best stable for my best boy."

"Flattery," Fledge said, in the sort of tone that pretended to be suspicious but was in fact bashfully pleased. "Do you think there might be oats in this land? Carrots?"

Frank finally opened his eyes: bright blue and beautiful in the dazzling new light of the morning, creased at the corners with smile lines. Under the drape of Fledge's wing he found Nellie's hand and wound their fingers together, the way she could almost remember him doing on the day they were married back in that - whatever it was. She couldn't think of the word.

"It's our land," Frank said, "mine and Nellie's and yours and all the others. We'll find everything we need right here."


End file.
